Knock Knock Who's There?

Sitting on the bed, he untied his shoe lace, put the key into his shoe and then tightened the lace. It wasn't comfortable, but it was safe!

A few minutes later he returned to the deck.

Freda was in the living-room, using the vacuum cleaner.

'I'll be back,' he called, then went to the boat, started the engine and headed out to the middle of the lake.

The telephone bell rang just as Massino was about to leave his office for home.

'Get it!' he barked to Lu Berilli who scooped up the receiver.

'It's Mr. Tanza,' he said and offered the receiver.

Cursing, Massino snatched the receiver from him, sat on the corner of his desk and said, 'What is it, Carlo? I'm just going home.'

'Just had a hot tip come in,' Carlo said. 'Could be nothing, but could be something. A man, answering to Bianda's description is living in a houseboat near Little Creek: that's five miles from New Symara. He's been there about two days and living with a man and his wife. The woman has hot pants. The husband is a trucker and away all day. She's Swedish and says this guy is her half-brother. He's as Italian as we are. This is a straight tip and the source is reliable.'

'So why bother me?' Massino demanded. 'You're looking for him, aren't you? Well, check this punk out.'

'We want one of your boys to identify him. No point in starting anything without being sure. Can you send someone?'

'Okay. I'll send Toni.'

'Fine. Tell him to fly to New Symara and then take a taxi to the

Waterfront Bar. All the taxidrivers know it. He's to ask for Luigi. He's our contact man. He'll fix it Toni has three or four men who'll take him to Little Creek. Okay?'

Massino scribbled on a pad.

'Yeah,' he said and hung up.

He turned to Berilli.

'Find Toni. Give him this. He's to fly on the first flight out. Tell him his job is to identify some guy Tanza thinks is Bianda. Get going!'

Berilli found Toni drinking beer with Ernie in a bar all Massino's men frequented. Toni and Ernie had just come off a long, boring stint of watching the left- luggage lockers and Toni was griping.

Ernie, who never minded a job where he could sit and do nothing, was listening with a bored expression on his fat face.

'Look who's here,' he said when he saw Berilli come

'That creep!' Toni sneered. 'What's he good for?'

Berilli came over and sat at their table.

'You have yourself a job.' He hated Toni and it pleased him to be the conveyor of bad news. 'The boss says you're to fly right away to New Symara . . . wherever the hell that is. Here . . . it's all written down.'

Toni took the scrap of paper, read it and then looked blankly at Berilli.

'What the hell's this all about?' he demanded.

'This guy Luigi says they think they've spotted Johnny. They want someone to go down there and identify him before they move in.'

'Johnny?'

Toni lost colour.

'Yeah. The boss says for you to take off right away.'

'That'll be the time,' Ernie said and chortled. 'When you face Johnny. Man! Would I like to be a long distant witness!'

Toni cursed him.

'You're sure the boss picked me?'

Berilli sneered at him.

'You call him. Don't you want the job?'

Toni licked his lips, aware the two men were watching him and grinning. He got to his feet and left the bar.

Johnny got back to the houseboat around midday with three fairsized Black Crappie. He had been uncomfortable wearing his bush jacket but he had to wear it to hide his gun and holster. From now on, he told himself, he wouldn't move without his gun. His instinct for danger was alert. While fishing, he had thought of Salvadore. The fat man had been friendly, but that didn't mean a thing. Everywhere there was a Mafia contact. He remembered Salvadore saying: You Italian like me? On the face of it a harmless remark, but it could also point to trouble.

All the same the peace of the lake, the quietness, the fact no one came near, although he could see distant